


All the ways...

by Lolastar231



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Stiles, Blow Jobs, Concerned Derek, Deep throat, Filth, Hurt Stiles, Kissing, M/M, Porn, Post Season 4, any excuse okay, canon compliantish, i don't even know it just had to be told, papa stilinski always knows best, there is also some fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2324108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolastar231/pseuds/Lolastar231
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guys, this is post-S4. And Stiles is pissed off and hurt. Of course it's Derek's fault. It leads him to go and find Derek and things get a little out of hand. </p><p>***</p><p>Something moved in bed next to him and he stilled, holding his breath. A hand came to rest on his hip, the long fingers spreading over the taut muscles of his abdomen, digging in slightly, but not painfully.<br/>“Don’t’ go,” Derek muttered.  “Too early. N’d sleep.”<br/>Stiles let himself relax into the grip. Derek made a ridiculous snuffling sound, moved closer until he pressed himself up against Stiles’ back, nosing lightly at the small hairs in the back of Stiles’ neck.<br/>“Dead,” Stiles whispered. “I am really dead. Or dreaming.”<br/>“Shhh.” The hand spread across his abdomen moved lightly, gently touching the bandages before moving them out of the way so that his fingertips could press against the hot skin there. “I got you.”<br/>Stiles knew that Derek was still more than half asleep. Three quarters and a half asleep? Can that be a thing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the ways...

**Author's Note:**

> What to say? Okay, so Derek's got game talking dirty. It kinda blows Stiles' mind. Everything happens consensually. This takes place after Season 4 and Derek's evolved - what the hell does that even mean? - and although Derek and Braeden are in a relationship it's mentioned in passing and our boys possibly do feel some guilt but hell, attraction is strong. The fact that Liam is struggling with mild PTSD is also brought up when Stiles fights with Derek initially, so be aware of that. Other than that, this is just a quick one-off full of bj's and silliness.

Stiles mutters a vile swear under his breath. His life could not be worse. No fucking way.   He pressed his knees to the bottom of the steering wheel and used his arm – his UNBROKEN arm – to change gears, wincing when the gears made awful horrible broken grinding noises, and pressed his foot down heavily on the accelerator, before returning his hand on his _unbroken_ arm back to the wheel.

He was going to have words with Derek fucking Hale. And those words were not going to be nice words.  He wishes he still had his bat because really he would have liked to use it, even one handed, on Derek’s charming handsome smirking face when he saw him. And not even Braeden would be able to intervene because he was righteously angry. 

He was completely justified in this.  The state he was in? All Derek’s fault. His zen attitude and sweet smiles now that he’s _evolved_ – like what the fuck did that even mean? – has not gone unnoticed by the supernatural community in general.

With Scott visiting his dad in San Francisco, it meant that the territory was without an alpha and that meant the supernaturals were trying their luck, pushing the boundaries to see how the pack reacted.

And of course, Stiles was the token convenient human and he was oh so breakable, so _very_ breakable, so he got to be the one every stray supernatural sought out.  Most times they pushed and Stiles pushed back hard. He could manage. He had the _spark_ , right? But sometimes, like tonight, things got out of hand and even in his book this was a fucking screw up.  And it was Derek’s fault.

Darkness swam at the edges of his vision and he blinked against the pain in his head. Fuck, he can’t have a concussion.  It would impact severely on his quality alone time he had planned. His dad had his hands full with the repercussions of the past few weeks and spent more time at the station than at home.  Stiles felt bad, it meant that he hardly saw his dad, but it also meant Stiles could just get on with research and sleeping. It also meant Stiles had the house to himself most of the time and well, he was a healthy young man who had a wide range of interests and not all of them centred on his Xbox or laptop either.

How far was the warehouse anyway? Fuck, he felt nauseas.  He managed another gear shift, blew through two sets of traffic lights and, at two in the morning, no one was around anyway, so he should be fine. Only bad people were out this time of night.

Eventually the warehouse came into view.  He parked as adequately as he could, given the circumstances – he was fucking high on pain, okay? Everything hurt – and slid from the Jeep with a gasp.

He got to the steps of the warehouse when the front door banged open and Derek stood there, staring at him, an expression of something, like distaste maybe, on his stupid handsome face.

“What the hell, Stiles?” He was down the stairs in two bounds. Stiles could feel the tension between them, even through the pain, and he held himself upright by sheer force of will, refusing to show Derek how much he actually hurt.

“Fuck you,” he said and spat some blood onto the ground in front of Derek’s bare feet. “This is your fault, you asshole.”

“Stiles? What happened?”  Derek made an aborted move to reach out and touch his face but Stiles canted his head to the side, just out of range of those hands he desperately wanted cupping his jaw.

“You _evolved._ ” Stiles managed to put as much anger in his voice as he could and managed a decent smirk that tore at the cut on his lip. “You evolved and everyone’s here trying to figure out what you are and how far they can push us.”

“Get inside.”  Derek’s gave him a long and thoughtful look before he turned on his heel and walked towards the stairs.  “You can tell me what happened while you get cleaned up.”

“Fine.” Stiles limped towards him, not acknowledging how ridiculous (even through the pain, dear God) he found Derek’s hip to shoulder ratio or the fact that he found it adorable (fuck his life) that Derek was barefoot and that he was wearing pyjama bottoms with…was that _Batman_? – all over his butt.

He hiccupped a laugh that turned into a gasp that shot through his ribs and he seized up in pain, his breath punched out of him.  He wobbled on his feet, he actually goddamn wobbled like a baby deer, and held out a steadying hand that shook far too much.

“Oh shit,” he muttered as the darkness he’d managed to keep at bay swept over him.

 

##

 

He was definitely not on his bed. And this was definitely not his room. Stiles moaned as he full regained consciousness. Pain hit him full square in the chest and sort of just spread out over the rest of his body and he kept still, waiting for the pain to ebb away but it didn’t. It was everywhere. His wrist was wrapped in a clean bandage.  More bandages were strapped around his ribs and it took him a few seconds to realise his clothes had been removed and he only had on his boxers. He tried to care that Derek had touched him whilst he was unconscious but nope, not even that could dim the pain coursing through him.

Sitting up was a problem and he lay back weakly.

“Oh god, let me die,” he muttered, voice low and hoarse.  “Because by being dead I would not be in this much pain.”

“Come on, drink this.”

Derek walked over from somewhere to the left of him and leaned over with a glass of water and two pills that were the size of torpedo shells.

“What are they?” Stiles asked.  “Will they interfere with my…?”

“They’re pain killers. I got them from Deaton.  Who got them off Ms. Morrell.  I checked online. You should be fine.  Only about 2% of people report any kind of side-effects and your life is not that fucked up, Stiles, that you are one of those 2%.”

“Fine.” He tried sitting up but his vision wavered. “Oh fuck.” He lay back down again.

“Let me. Here, just tilt your head.”

Stiles, at any other time would have found it fascinating and hot at how deftly Derek manhandled him, carefully and with such grace, to help him sit up enough that he could take the tablets. Interestingly, Derek didn’t drop the tablets into his mouth, he merely canted his hand towards Stiles’ mouth and watched as Stiles basically licked them off the palm of his hand, before holding the glass of water to his lips.

“You good?” His voice was a little low as he watched Stiles.  “You look like shit.”

“Fuck off. I look awesome.”

Derek made a little amused noise.  “Whatever. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Where’s Braeden?” Stiles countered.  “Why am I in your bed?”

“There was nowhere else to put you. The couch had paper all over it. This was easier. It’s also closer to the bathroom.”

“Braeden.”

“She’s out of town. On a job.”  Derek levelled a look at him, tilted his chin. “Come on. What the hell happened, Stiles?”

“Got a call, saying they had more information for us to put into the Bestiary.” He winced and closed his eyes against the light.  “Turns out it was a trap.  Who fucking knew, right?  I got jumped just around the corner from the coffee shop just off the main road. Five of them.  Fucking shifters.  But they didn’t expect me to be able to handle myself.  I broke my bat on the second guy’s back and I’m pretty sure I broke the other guy’s nose before they even got near me.”

For long seconds there was silence before Derek moved, crossing his arms and scowled down at Stiles. “You’ll live. If they wanted you dead, you’d be dead. You fucked up your hand and your arm’s not broken, but you’ve sprained your wrist and it feels like you hurt the muscle in your forearm.  Your ribs, really badly bruised but again, none broken, not even cracked.  You got lucky.”

“What about my head?”

“That was a lost cause before tonight.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not tonight, Stiles. I don’t think you can manage.”

Stiles blinked in shock because what? “What?”

Derek kept a straight face for all of four seconds before grinning. “Your head’s gonna be okay too. You’re made of strong stuff, Stiles.  You just need rest.”

“Why are you joking? Why are you smiling? Oh my god, I am dead aren’t I and this is hell? Jesus, I knew it.  I go to hell and even here you’re tormenting me.  Only you’re smiling. With glee.”  He groaned again, settling deeper into the pillow beneath his head. “I must have been such a depraved sex pervert serial killer in my previous life to deserve this, seriously. Fuck. My. Life.”

“Are you quite finished?”

Stiles managed to look up at Derek’s scowling face.  It was devoid of all humour now and boy, were those eyebrows pissed.

“If I am your idea of hell, why are you here, Stiles?”

“Because this?” He tried raising his hand and managed it a little, making a sweeping motion that’s meant to be his bleeding face, his broken body. “Is your fault. No one knows what’s going on with you so we’re being stalked by supes who want to figure it out. And the easiest way to figure it out is to mack on the human. Or Liam.” He was getting angry again. “He’s just a kid, Derek. You know he’s too fucking terrified to leave his house? He spends most of his time playing Xbox with Mason. He looks like shit and he hasn’t slept in weeks.  And where’s Scott? He upped and fucked off to spend time with his dad.  And where are you? Nowhere. You threw us under the bus so you can play house with fucking Braeden and the rest of us have to just make do.”

“I never…”

“No, that’s right, Derek. You never.  You never think, do you? What this means to us? Neither does Scott. I don’t have superfast healing mojo. Most of the times I manage.  Tonight? I fucking didn’t.”

“You never once…”

Stiles refused to acknowledge the startled look on his face. No. Derek had no right to play at being surprised, of being taken unawares by any of this. It was his fault. All of it.

“Fuck you, Derek. I shouldn’t have to ask.”

“You need to calm down and stop flailing. You’ve opened the wound on your lip again. Fuck, Stiles. Just stop talking and trying to move.”

Derek got hold of Stiles’ arm and pressed it down onto the bed, his grip searingly hot against Stiles’ skin. He gasped, made a token effort to pull away but Derek just leaned closer, pressing down a little more.

“Lie. Still.”

Stiles opened his mouth to argue but Derek’s voice, soft and sounding vulnerable, stopped him.  He settled down, watching Derek reach down and rummage in a first aid box and brought out a small bit of cotton wool.

“This is going to sting.  Don’t whine.”

“Fuck you. I don’t whine.”

The second the disinfectant touched his skin Stiles whined because it hurt like hell. When were those pills supposed to kick in anyway?

Derek dabbed at his cut lip, his touch gentle and his face stupidly full of concentration. Stiles narrowed his eyes and watched him for any sign of perverse enjoyment but there was none.

“You need sleep. I spoke with your dad. Told him you were staying over. Said you got into a fight with some guys from that school you lost to in lacrosse.”

“Oh great.”

“He’s worried about you.  Feels guilty that he’s not spending more time with you.”

“Since when have you become BFFs?”

“Since we fought a bunch of assassins and put my uncle away in an insane asylum. And, oh yeah, I died.”

Stiles rolled his eyes so hard it made his head ache. 

“I don’t think I like you guys being friends.”

Derek shrugged as he packed his first aid kit away. “Luckily for me I don’t have care what you like or dislike.”

“You are an asshole.”

“So are you.  We’re even. Now, shut up and sleep.”

Stiles wanted to reply but Derek was already moving away, towards the bathroom, carrying the little box with his medical supplies. He closed his eyes and sighed. He was sleepy. It would be good just to lie here for like, five minutes, before leaving and driving home.

##

Stiles woke up gradually. The pain was still there, he still hurt everywhere, but it felt _less_.  He felt less like dying and his head, though it still hurt, felt free of darkness.

Something moved in bed next to him and he stilled, holding his breath. A hand came to rest on his hip, the long fingers spreading over the taut muscles of his abdomen, digging in slightly, but not painfully.

“Don’t’ go,” Derek muttered.  “Too early. N’d sleep.”

Stiles let himself relax into the grip. Derek made a ridiculous snuffling sound, moved closer until he pressed himself up against Stiles’ back, nosing lightly at the small hairs in the back of Stiles’ neck.

“Dead,” Stiles whispered. “I am really dead. Or dreaming.”

“Shhh.” The hand spread across his abdomen moved lightly, gently touching the bandages before moving them out of the way so that his fingertips could press against the hot skin there. “I got you.”

Stiles knew that Derek was still more than half asleep. Three quarters and a half asleep? Can that be a thing? Because there was no way Derek would be in bed with him, cuddling him, if he were awake. He must think he’s in bed with Braeden. Right?

“Stop thinking Stiles. It’s loud and too early.”  Derek’s voice was gravelly, still thick with sleep and Jesus, that definite did things to Stiles’ heartbeat that had nothing to do with the pain he was in. Nope, he definitely knew he was in bed with Stiles and that was hot.

“Derek? Why are you spooning me?”

“It’s my bed.”

Damn his logic. Stiles gave a sigh then realised _he gave a sigh_. His breathing was easier. His ribs hurt less. Things clicked into place.

“Did you do the pain drain on me?”

“Yes. Are you always this talkative in bed?”

“Are you really asking me this? Now?”

Derek groaned and it’s an almost helpless sound. “Just, be still. I’m tired. You need sleep. Come on.”

He was closer now than before, if that was possible and yes, that was Derek’s ridiculous torso and abs pressed against the curve of Stiles’ back and wow, it felt good.

“Never took you for an aggressive snuggler, Hale.”

“I’ll get aggressive if you don’t shut up.”

Stiles opened his mouth but the hand on his hip moved to cover his mouth.

“Not a word.  Are we clear?”

The words were so softly spoken behind the curve of his ear that he felt them more than heard them.  Stiles swallowed and closed his eyes because this, this should not be turning him on as much as it did. He brought his own hand up and wrapped it around Derek’s wrist and pulled at it lightly, lifting his chin just a little and Derek let him. 

Stiles seriously considered all the choices he’d made in his life up to that point and decided that he was destined to crash and burn at a young age anyway and that this, whatever this was, felt like the right thing to give in to.

So he opened his mouth and ran his tongue up the lean length of Derek’s thumb as it pressed against the side of his mouth.  It brought a low gasp from Derek and Stiles’ eyes drifted shut because that wasn’t a _no_ or a _what the hell are you doing, Stiles_ either.

Feeling bold and reckless he tugged at Derek’s hand, opened his mouth and sucked his thumb into his mouth, loving the feel of Derek’s against his tongue.

Stiles watched a lot of porn.  Both hetero and gay. He knew what to do with his tongue when it came to sex and foreplay.  Now that he had Derek’s thumb in his mouth, he went to town, curving it around the width and sucking at tip, moving his head a little, bobbing up and down. He moved to Derek’s forefinger and sucked it straight down, gliding his tongue effortlessly along the length of it, his lashes fluttering because this, this felt incredible.

“Stiles, Jesus, what are you…”

Derek voice was ragged as he pressed closer, careful of Stiles’ ribs, exhaling hotly against his neck.

“How do you know to do this?”

Stiles let Derek’s finger out of his mouth reluctantly with a slow and very long drag of his tongue, pulling his lips away, knowing that his cheeks would look hollow, his face debauched.  He licked his saliva from Derek’s skin first, before dipping his tongue into the soft curve of the v between his fore and middle fingers. “Malia wasn’t my first anything, Derek.”

“What else can you do?”

“A lot…” He exhales and drops his hips into a slow luxurious roll. He ignored the bite of pain he felt in his ribs and did it again, pressing back against Derek’s arousal, his own cock very much on board with this dangerous game, achingly so.

Derek’s hand dropped to his hip once more, flattening out across his stomach and when Stiles’ hips rolled again his hand pressed him further back into Derek’s hips as he thrust upwards.

“Fuck…”

“You have _no idea_.”

“I’m not quite as limber as I’d like to be for this,” Stiles said and his voice sounded ragged, a little breathy.  “And I’d love to show you all the ways …”

“All the ways…?” Derek prompted him. 

“Yeah, all the ways I’ve thought of doing you.”

In answer Derek moved, faster than Stiles anticipated and he let out a gasp of shock when he found himself on his back and straddled by an aroused Derek Hale.

“You’ve thought of this?”

Stiles brought his hand up and tentatively ran a finger down the middle of Derek’s chest, down his abs, lingering lightly at the band of his pyjama bottoms, softly fingering the trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the fabric.

“So much. And in vivid detail.”

Slightest pause, where Derek watched him, his head cocked, like he was listening to something outside of Stiles’ hearing. When he spoke his voice came out softer than before. “You’re not lying.”

Stiles, because he’s a little shit, quirked an eyebrow and dropped his hand to Derek’s erection, running his fingers up the length.

“You’re interested too.”

Preening a little, Derek caught Stiles’ hand and covered it with his own, before pushing it through the open gap at the front of his pyjamas, and into his boxers.

He held Stiles’ hand there, making minute, barely there, little movements until Stiles’ fingers slid around the hard length of him.

“What do you think?”

A sly expression crossed Stiles’ face and he lowered his eyes briefly, before staring up at Derek.  He ran his thumb up his hard length, loving heat of him throbbing solidly beneath his hand. He gave his cock it a solid stroke, twisting his wrist at the last moment and swept a thumb around the head, before dipping his hand lower again.

Derek gave a soft gasp and fuck, if he didn’t look like sex on a stick straddling Stiles like this. 

“I think you like broken boys in your bed, Derek Hale.”

“No, just you.”

Derek leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to Stiles’ mouth, a little off centre and Stiles turned his head fully into the kiss, opening his mouth. Derek’s mouth was warm and he tasted of coffee and something darker, something like whisky and Stiles lapped at it, loving the taste of it against the curl of his tongue.

Bracing himself on either side of Stiles’ head, Derek started fucking into Stiles’ mouth with his tongue, catching those involuntary soft noises.

“I really want you to fuck me,” Stiles muttered drunkenly when Derek sat up, letting him breathe. “But when I’m better, when I can bend and when I’m not high on drugs.”

“I want to fuck you. So much.  I want to make you come at the end of my cock.”  Derek bent down and worked his mouth along Stiles collarbone.  “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to get my hands on you. To see how fast I can mark you up.” He bit lightly at Stiles’ nipple and rubbed the sting away. “I spent days obsessing about your oral fixation.  Your mouth was made to be fucked, do you know that? I jerked off thinking about it stretched wide over my cock as I slide in and out of your hot, wet, mouth.” He cupped Stiles’ chin, and pressed his thumb against his lip.  Stiles opened his mouth obligingly and sucked his thumb lightly until Derek shuddered.  “I’ve watched you hurt yourself, tugging at your hair, and I wondered: do you like having your hair pulled during sex? Like this?” As he spoke he tangled his hands in Stiles’ hair and pulled his head back a little, exposing the long arc of his neck. “Oh yes, you do. Fuck, that is so hot.”

“What else?” Stiles swallowed. “What else have you wondered? Thought about?”

Derek ran his hands down Stiles’ sides, his expression thoughtful. As he spoke he ran his thumb in maddening circles over Stiles’ stomach, his fingers teasing at the elastic of his boxers. “I’ve wondered how vocal you were when you were fucking. You’re expressive in every other way.  The way you move, talk, use your hands. Your eyes. You have this thing you do, when you look down and then up? It drives me to distraction. I wondered if that was the look you gave when you suck cock.  Because you do suck cock, right?”

Stiles let his eyelids flutter shut because holy god, Derek’s game in dirty talk was strong. 

“I suck cock.” His voice came out sounding breathier and huskier than he anticipated and the way Derek stilled, for a moment, his gaze resting heavily on Stiles’ mouth, punched the breath out of him because fuck, he’d never told anyone about this before. Not ever.

“Good.” Derek leaned down and kissed him again and it got filthy pretty fast. Stiles groaned, desperate for Derek’s fingers to eventually make contact with his aching cock. It felt like he was going to explode. He rolled his hips, biting back a whimper of pain and opened his eyes to stare up at Derek, only to find him watching Stiles right back, right through kissing. The look was hot and intense and his pupils were blown so wide, Stiles was pretty sure that Derek looked like he was the one high on drugs.

“Good?” Stiles echoed because his brain had short-circuited.

“Yeah, good, because I do too and I really want to suck you off.”

“Fuck, Derek, your mouth is filthy.”

“You have _no idea._ ”

Stiles blinked because hello, that sounded like something he could get on board with.

“Are you all talk or…?” he prompted because he wanted desperately to get this show on the road, properly.

“You tell me.”

Derek pulled Stiles’ hand off and stepped off the bed, rucking his pj bottoms and boxers off.  He moved with a careless grace, completely unselfconscious, as he walked into the bathroom and came back with a tube of lube. 

Stiles groaned and made a valiant movement to sit up because he really wanted Derek’s cock in his mouth, stat.  Derek was long and thick and uncut and he’d felt like silk in Stiles’ hand earlier. Now though, he wanted that weight on his tongue, his mouth wrapped around it because it looked gorgeous.

“Before you…can I taste you?”

Derek stilled in surprise as he moved back towards the bed.

“Are you sure? You’re hurt I don’t want to…”

“I’m okay. Just…don’t fuck my mouth too hard. My gag reflex is impressive but the rest of me is not up to scratch.”

Stiles watched Derek walk up to the side of the bed and got lost in the play of dark shadows across the sculpted planes of his body. He wondered at how the darkness clung to the visible hollows of his body, the v of his hips, as if reluctant to let him move into the light.

“You don’t have to do this, Stiles.”

“I know. But I want to. I want to taste you, feel you.”  Stiles couldn’t believe he was blushing and he dipped his head.  “You look fantastic and I have no idea why we’ve not done this before.”

Derek cupped his hand over Stiles’ cheek, tracing his thumb over his cheekbone, lingering lightly across his parted lips.

“Maybe because neither of us were ready?”

“And we are now?”

Derek looked down at himself, trailed a hand along his length and gave a wry grin.

“Yeah, I reckon so. Do you need me to do anything?”

In answer Stiles spread his legs and Derek stepped between them.  The bed was the perfect height for this and as he moved his fingers up Derek’s muscled thighs, he heard him inhale sharply and he glanced up at him.

“Okay?”

Derek nodded in reply and Stiles licked his lips before lowering his mouth over his head and slowly sinking down the whole length of Derek, opening his throat, taking his time, getting used to the feel of his cock in his mouth, not really doing anything special, not yet anyway.

He pulled back a little and got his tongue moving in lazy circles, letting his eyes fall shut. He loved this part, this was where he blissed out, and just did his utmost to make his partner feel good.  He held onto Derek’s hip, curving his hand over his ass cheek, digging his nails in a little. Derek gave a soft gasp at the unexpected pain and pressed his hand to the back of Stiles’ head, running his fingers through his hair, twisting his fingers lightly into the thickness and pulling a little.

Stiles’ cock reacted to the sting of having his hair pulled and he moaned around Derek’s length, sucking harder.

“Fuck, Stiles, your mouth. If you don’t stop soon…”

He hollowed his cheeks and peered up at Derek through his lashes and gave him a flash of a grin before ducking his head again.  He spent some time working his way up and down Derek’s length, licking and sucking and loving the sound of Derek trying to control himself and failing. The unfamiliar slide of Derek’s cock down his throat made his jaw ache but he flexed his mouth and patiently worked at it until it became a pleasant throb. He felt tears gather in his eyes but he refused to pull off. He could go longer, harder, and had before, but never with this much intent.

Had anyone told Stiles he’d be pulling these little groaning noises from Derek twelve hours ago, that they’d be naked, he’d have laughed at them because the thought of actually pulling Derek meant that occasionally the heavens did smile down on him.

And now, here he was, his lips wrapped around Derek’s cock, and he so turned on it felt like he might come without even touching himself. And Derek stood between his spread legs, one hand curled in Stiles’ hair, thrusting at an excruciatingly slow pace in and out of his mouth, driving them both a little bit wild. The pace was slow and torturous and gorgeously stoking a fire to a full blaze.

Stiles groaned and pulled back slightly, gasping for air, running his wrist over his mouth and grinned up at Derek, knowing how appealing his face would look staring up at him, his eyes damp with tears, his breathing a little ragged.

“Hey,” he said and his voice was a little hoarse from Derek’s cock down his throat and he swallowed against the burn, unable to help the way his hand drops down to his own cock to give it a slow stroke.

Derek looked down at him, his eyes unfathomable and darker than Stiles had ever seen them.  Without a word he reached for the glass of water he set beside the bed and handed it to Stiles, watching him gulp the water down gratefully.

“I’m not sure if I should be grateful to the guy who taught you to deep-throat like a pro or find him and rip his heart out,” Derek muttered, crouching in front of Stiles, so that they were face to face.  “You never…”

“Yeah, let’s not talk about how I learned anything, Derek.  You definitely won’t like it.”

Derek leaned in and kissed him, taking the glass from him without even looking and dropping it back onto the nightstand.

“One day you should tell me,” Derek murmured, nosing down his throat, slowly pushing him back against the bed.  “Because you will be showing me all the ways.”

Stiles sighed into Derek’s mouth and lay back against the mattress, letting his eyes close heavily as Derek ran his hands down his sides, making him shiver. Derek kissed him, languorously, like he was trying to memorise Stiles’ mouth; like he was scared he might never have the chance to do it again.  And Stiles let him, loving the feel of Derek staking his claim on him by taking his time and driving him insane and actually – fuck, he laughed to himself – Derek was ravaging his mouth.

When Derek pulled away, lightly biting Stiles’ lower lip, he blinked up at him.

“You mentioned about sucking me? Because I’m so ready.”

“You are? I wasn’t aware.”

“Asshole.”

Stiles dropped his unbandaged arm between them and ran it up his cock, cupping his balls, and moaned lightly.  Derek’s cock pressed against his leg gave a twitch of interest and when Stiles stared up at him, there was a definite glint of not-human in Derek’s eyes. Recklessly, he did the same slow roll of his hips against Derek he did earlier and Derek’s gaze dropped from his face and his mouth, to look down between them. 

“How is your cock so pretty?” he asked, sounding bemused, his voice gravelly. “And you’re cut.”

Stiles choked on air and laughed.

“You’ve got good game, big guy.”

“I really do.” Derek’s smile was a warning of things to come and Stiles grinned back.

“Prove it.”

Derek worked his way down Stiles’ body, placing open mouthed kisses and licks wherever he could reach, grumbling about the bandages being in his way, but even so he took care near his ribs before moving down.

He pushed Stiles’ hand away from his cock and pressed it lightly into the mattress, tightening his grip.

“My turn to play.”

Stiles breathed out a soft laugh when Derek pressed a quick darting licking kiss to the open slit but the laugh turned into a low “oh my fucking god” when Derek didn’t bother with any further teasing.

Derek’s mouth felt like heaven as he took Stiles in, swallowing him down with a slow deliberation that scrambled Stiles’ mind.  What Derek did with his wet eager mouth was obscene and it rendered him speechless. It took all of Stiles’ willpower not to fight to get his hand free from Derek’s grip to move it down into Derek’s hair so that he could fuck up into his hot heat.

Derek cupped his tongue and lapped the length of Stiles’ cock in luxurious swipes, taking his time to work his way up.  When he got to the head, he curved his tongue around the taught rim, making an appreciative noise in the back of his throat, and sucked on it, like he would suck on a lollipop, taking only the tip into his mouth.

“Derek.” Stiles reached down and touched Derek’s face. “I’m going to come pretty fucking fast if you keep doing that.  Jesus, where have you?” His eyes rolled back in his head when Derek bobbed his head down and hummed around his thickness, making the sound vibrate through the core of him.  “No, don’t tell me. I never want to know who I have to hunt down and oh my god, what are you doing?”

Stiles gave up on keeping still and started shallowly thrusting into Derek’s mouth, his hand on Derek’s throat. He found he could feel himself there, if he ran his thumb lightly under Derek’s stubbled jaw and holy god, how was not the hottest thing in the world ever?

There’s a subvocal rumble from Derek at Stiles’ hand on his throat and for a second Stiles thought he was doing something stupid, holding onto Derek’s neck. His mind skittered, wondering if it’s a dominance thing, touching a werewolf’s neck like that during sex, and if he was doing something wrong, but then Derek leaned heavily into his touch and Stiles strengthened his hold and watched in amazement as Derek’s eyes fluttered shut at the touch. Swallowing hard at the level of trust Derek’s showing him he rubbed his thumb over the soft skin, lightly dragging his nails lower and then up again.  

Derek pulled off and worked his way up Stiles’ body with determination, mouthing at his skin, dragging his tongue over his hard nipples, leaving bites. He tilted Stiles neck to the side, exposing the lean muscle there and sank down, biting the skin at the base but not hard enough to bruise.

“Mine,” he growled. “Yes?”

Stiles found himself startled at the possessive tone and blinked rapidly, his heart-rate spiking, his synapses trying to make sense of the question and what it implied. It took a few seconds only to decide on his answer.

“Yes.”

Satisfied with the whispered word Derek nuzzled deeper against the column of Stiles’ neck, his lips nipping softly, before biting, sudden and sharp, a small nip and sucking a mark there.  Stiles let out a gasp and shuddered at the pain followed by the soothing feel of his tongue against his over-sensitised skin, before opening his mouth to be kissed by Derek again. Nothing had prepared Stiles for the kiss Derek pressed against his lips.

The intensity of it burned through him and he brought his hand up to pull Derek closer, holding onto him, too aware of how much bare skin there was between them and yet it didn’t feel like enough. He gave a sigh against Derek’s open mouth and as he sank bonelessly into the mattress, Derek followed, his hips rolling against his in an unconscious movement, rubbing against his own hard and leaking cock.

He was so keyed up from sucking Derek, from being sucked and kissed mindlessly and from the pain and the pills he’d been given, that when Stiles heard the cap of the lube pop open he breathed a “fuck yes”, arching his back wantonly against Derek.

“Greedy, so very greedy,” Derek murmured lifting himself up so that he was straddling Stiles. He poured some lube into his hands and warmed it, his gaze coming to rest between them, taking in Stiles’ erection and his own. “Can’t wait for you to ride me.”

“Yeah?”

His smile is sweet, and fond, and even a little shy. “Yeah. Come on. Fuck into my hand. I wanna see you come.”

With that he took them both into his hand, keeping his grip light, letting Stiles set the pace before joining him. The sound of their cocks sliding together was made obscene by the amount of saliva, precome and lube Derek had lathered on his hand.  Stiles groaned, thrusting up off the bed, into Derek’s hand, feeling Derek’s balls hitting his as straddled him.  He watched as the faint grey light of dawn touch the windows of the loft, illuminating Derek’s straining muscles.

Derek’s attention was directed to his hand wrapped around their straining cocks and the look on his face was one of concentration but when he chanced a look up and caught Stiles watching him, he kept eye contact.

Stiles felt flayed open by the pure want he saw in Derek’s expression when he looked at Stiles.  Stiles bit his lip and, keeping his eyes on Derek, he started thrusting faster, falling out of rhythm. Derek’s breath stuttered and he breathed something low and intense before he too started a separate rhythm, miraculously managing to keep them both caged and gripped in his hand.

Stiles felt his orgasm build low and hot in the base of his spine. He pressed his knuckle to his mouth to stop himself from crying out but Derek batted it away, his gaze hot.

“I want to hear you.”

“Fuck…” Stiles groaned.

“Come one. I’m close.” He grabbed hold of Stiles’ hand and bit the plump skin of his hand, just below his thumb.  “Talk to me.”

“You’re killing me.” Stiles rolled his eyes back in his head but refocused on Derek. “God, next time we do this you have to bend me over that couch downstairs. I need you to hold me down. I want you to finger me open. I need you inside me, fucking me until I can’t remember…”

“What? Until you can’t remember what, Stiles?”

“Until,” he gasped, realising how close he was. “Until I can’t remember anything else apart from being…yours.”

“Fuck. I can definitely do that. I want to.” Derek sounds wrecked, his eyes dark pools of lust. “Mine.”

Stiles arched violently, shooting white streams all over himself, shuddering as he came apart beneath Derek.  Derek stroked him through the orgasm, using his come to lubricate himself even more. It only took a further half-dozen thrusts before Derek made a strangled sound, his body bowing tautly over them both as his own orgasm was wrung from him.

He stayed like that for a few moments, breathing heavily, getting himself under control before looking down at Stiles.

“Okay?”

Stiles’ answering grin was slow and sleepy.

“Yeah. You?”

“Very.”

Derek grinned and released them both, before looking at his hand covered in both their come and lube. 

“We smell good together.”

“God, that is gross.”

Derek’s eyes flashed and he frowned before very deliberately bringing the palm of his hand up to his mouth and taking a long, very slow, very purposeful lick. He curled his tongue up the palm of his hand and sucked right to the top of his forefinger, popping off with an obscene sound that made Stiles’ eyes go wide.

“We taste even better together.”

Stiles’ felt his cock twitch at the sight of Derek licking their come off his hand and moaned a little.

“That should be gross.  Why isn’t it gross? I’m completely turned on.”

“What’s your refractory period?” Derek asked, eyebrow raised. “I can do this all night.”

“I…wait, are you serious?”

Derek’s answering grin was all the answer he needed.

“Fuck, I can’t heal fast enough because I really want to try that.”

“Yeah?”

In answer Stiles sat up not paying the ache in his ribs or arm the slightest attention.

“Yeah. We’re going to explore all the ways, Derek Hale. All. Of. Them.”

Derek kissed him, slow and sweet, before standing up.  He paused at the side of the bed and looked down at Stiles.

“You still pissed at me?”

Stiles blinked in confusion then scowled. “Wait…did you just fuck me to stop me from being angry with you?”

“No. I fucked you so that I could get you to sleep. It helped, right?”

Stiles found a pillow and flung it at Derek’s retreating back.

“You’re an ass.”

“You love it!”

Stiles was still grinning, satisfied and sleepy, when Derek came back from the bathroom. He brandished a warm damp cloth and used it to clean them both up before carelessly tossing the cloth to the side and crawling back into bed beside Stiles.

Stiles turned on his side and pulled the covers over them both and settled into his pillow, his eyes drifting shut.  Derek curved himself carefully around Stiles and nuzzled into the nape of his neck, taking a deep breath and exhaling.

Stiles caught Derek’s fingers and pressed them lightly against his chest, over the steady rhythm of his heart, and let sleep take him.

 

##

 

“Yes, sir.”

Stiles woke up to Derek’s voice coming from nearby and sat up groggily. Derek was standing a few paces away, back in his Batman pj’s and barefoot, his mobile to his ear.  He looked over when he heard Stiles stir and for a second Stiles worried that everything that had happened the night before had been a huge mistake.  But then Derek smiled and he looked so beautiful and at ease, Stiles grinned back and made grabby hands at him.

Derek rolled his eyes but walked over anyway, still listening to whoever was on the phone.

Stiles tilted his head up as Derek bent down and kissed him, the gesture easy and relaxed, before sitting down next to him on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sure he’ll understand.  No, he’s still asleep. He’ll heal.  Nothing was broken.  I’ll drive him over to BH General to be checked out by Melissa this morning.”

Stiles widened his eyes, indicating the phone and mouthed ‘my dad?’ at Derek who nodded, pressing a finger to Stiles’ lips to keep him quiet. Stiles pretended to snap at the finger shushing him and Derek gave him a quelling look before turning back to the conversation.

“Have a good trip, Sheriff.  I’ll get Stiles to call you once he’s woken up and had some coffee.  I know. He’s a menace.  I’ll keep him from eating anything that’s bad for him.”

When Derek hung up and tossed the phone onto the nightstand, he looked at Stiles and raised an eyebrow.

“Your dad’s been called away to San Francisco. He’s got some meetings with Rafa and some other FBI agents.  They want all the information he has on the Orphans and what happened here.”

Alarm thrummed through Stiles and he swung his feet off the side of the bed.

“I have to go with him.  He’s liable to get into trouble.”

“Stiles, he’s going to be fine.  Rafa knows. Scott told him about,” he gestured. “Everything.  They’re going to keep everything above board but will need time to get their story together.  It’s better if he goes by himself.  You’ll be a distraction.”

“Yeah, I’m such a distraction he doesn’t even care that I’ve been holed up at home for the past few weeks going out of my mind.” Stiles rubbed his face and realised that although he was achy and there were a few twinges of pain, most of the discomfort he had the night before was gone.

“Did you pain-drain me again?”

“You were restless, just after dawn.  You wouldn’t calm down.  I helped.”

Stiles nodded.

“Yeah, it feels like you did. Thanks.”  He stood up and teetered only a little.  “Holy shit, I’m naked.”

“So I notice.” Derek looked up at him, eyebrows raised high.  “Do you want to know what you dad told me?”

“Uh?” Stiles looked down at himself, then at Derek.  “You want to tell me right now? When I’m standing here, naked? You want to talk about my _dad_?”

“Yeah.” Derek spread his legs and pulled Stiles towards him, tilting his head up so he could look up.  “Your dad asked me if you could stay here for the week while he was gone.  He was worried that you were spending far too much time by yourself. You were either at home or getting into fights. I said yes, you should definitely stay here.  That I’d keep an eye on you.  See what I can do to deflect this pent up energy you seem to have.”

Stiles blinked, staring down at Derek’s upturned face, super aware of how intimate this was, that although he wasn’t hard, he could feel Derek’s breath on his cock, and on is skin and he felt arousal starting to build low in his stomach.

“He’s okay. With me. Staying here. For a whole week?”

The grin that spread across Derek’s face could only be described as a mixture of smug and sly.  He stood up and crowded closer against Stiles, nosing against his neck, pressing kisses there, before moving his head so he could speak directly, softly, into his ear.

“Yes. Are we going to talk about _all the things_?” he asked, running his hands through Stiles’ hair and pulling at it, exposing his neck. “Safe words? Talk about kinks? Because I am invested in taking charge of you.”

“Fuck, Derek.” Stiles shuddered. “Yes.”

“Good. Go shower. I’ll make some coffee.  I’ll take you to breakfast when you’re done.”

Stiles nodded, catching his lip between his teeth, he took a few steps away before turning around to look at Derek.  He held out a hand.

“Join me? I’ve always wanted to be fucked in the shower.” Then he raised his eyebrows.  “You _can_ do that, right? Hold me up and fuck me?”

Derek’s answering grin was savage and Stiles laughed.  “God, Derek, you are so easy.”

“And you are a tease. Run!”

Stiles let out a gasp as Derek’s canines elongated and he took a step backwards, towards the bathroom.

“No.”

“Yes. You better run.”

“Oh god, Derek, this shouldn’t be hot but it is.”

Stiles took another step backwards, keeping his eyes on Derek. His gaze darted around the room and came up with no weapons. He knew it was playing but still, there was something in Derek’s stance, in the way he spread his arms wide, and stared at Stiles that made his heart beat wildly.

“You should run. It’s more fun.”

Stiles turned and ran, a shocked burst of laughter escaping from him when Derek swooped towards him, lifting his feet clear from under him and carried him into the bathroom.  He carefully put Stiles down and pushed him up against the cold tiles, making him squirm. Not taking his eyes off Stiles’ face, Derek rubbed lightly at the cut on Stiles’ lip.

“Caught you.” But his voice held no triumph, no crowing, just a sound of wonder.

“Yeah. You did.”

Derek bent and kissed Stiles, slow and easy and Stiles fell into it, pressing closer, dragging his nails lightly across Derek’s muscled back, letting his hands wander down to his waist and beneath the elastic of his pj bottoms, thumbing the deep dimples above his ass, before grinding up against him.

“We have so much to talk about,” Stiles muttered, pulling back. 

“About all the things?”

“Yeah.”

Derek grunted. “I don’t think this week’s going to be long enough.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

 

#

 

“Hey dad, no, I just woke up.”

“You sound awful.  Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I literally just woke up. So I’ve got a scratchy throat.”

“What happened last night?”

“I broke my bat on some dude’s back.  I survived.”

“Derek sounded pissed when he rang me last night.”

Stiles grinned. “Yeah, it was a dick move on my part coming here at two in the morning though.”

“Son.”

“Yes, dad?”

Stiles could _hear_ how done his dad was with him. “Listen, just…be safe, okay? I love you, no matter what, but I’ve got to go.  They’re calling my flight. We’re going to talk about this when I get back home.”

“Okay, dad. I love you too. Tell Scott I say ‘hi’.”

“I will. Tell Derek that if he doesn’t treat you right I know how to kill him so that he stays dead.”

“Dad!”

 

The end.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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